


I Need An Angel's Hand

by TheDarkNightsRun



Series: Super Top Secret Totally Awesome Project White [2]
Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: 1940's China, Alternate Universe - World War II, Badass Changgu, Changgu hates being a spy, Disregarding the Government, Drama, Explicit Language, Extreme Drama, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Historical References, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, STSTAPW pt 2, Secret Identity, Spies & Secret Agents, Strangers to Lovers, Time Skips, Tries To Do a Good Job Yanan, Very Badass Yanan, Wartime Romance, at the end tho, but if it was a gay anime, it gets pretty crazy yall, more like co-workers than strangers, you have to squint to see it tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkNightsRun/pseuds/TheDarkNightsRun
Summary: Changgu didn't want to say he called it but... he definitely called it. He just knew he'd end up doing something beyond stupid once he started working for the unnecessarily, impossibly, out-of-this-world, synonyms, attractive Advisor to the Main Man in charge.He also may or may not have screwed up royally at one point, but hey, who cared?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this almost 6 months ago as of next week and tbh I've been afraid to post it bc i lowkey hate it. Here it is tho.
> 
> If you haven't read the first part of this series, you should, but if you don't want to or just aren't into Yuto/Kino, all you need to know is the US government tried a Captain America-esque experiment with orphans they picked up from the Axis countries before the war started. The kids were trained to basically be able to take down a whole country in one night without breaking a sweat, and then were later sent to their respective countries to act as super intelligent spies for the US during the war. We're gonna get more into it as the series continues, but we already know Yuto and Yuta (from NCT) were a part of what they called "Project White".
> 
> Also, even though everything that happens regarding the war and US government personnel visiting them is true, idk how communism worked for China in the 1940's, so that stuff is most likely wrong.

“Lieutenant Yeo,” the Chancellor spoke without looking up from the parchment he was scribbling on, “you may go in now.”

Changgu silently pushed his way past the large red doors in front of him. He’d been to three meetings already, each as mundane as the last, and, at one point, someone had been shot. It was pretty crazy, yeah, but Changgu was doing his best.

“Commissar, sir-” he began once he was inside. He was supposed to be meeting with the Commissar about an important message but, “You're not the commissar.” He realized how brash his word choice was a second too late. Shit.

The tall man at the far end of the room turned around to face him, sporting a tight, professional smile. “You're very observant, aren't you?”

Changgu gaped because holy  _ hell  _ this man was beautiful. Not even in the feminine-long-lashes-and-thick-lips kind of way, but in an ethereal, impossible kind of way. Wow.

“S-sir…” He stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back. He needed to get ahold of himself before he did anything stupid- because knowing him and his idiotic tendencies, he was going to do something stupid.

The man stepped towards a large table in the center of the room as he drawled, “Lieutenant Yeo…” and opened a red-taped folder sitting neatly on the surface. He silently skimmed through the pages before looking up. “Lieutenant Yeo, we’re both pretty busy right now, so I'm just going to make this brief.” He stepped closer to Changgu and began to pull something out of the folder. 

Changgu tensed. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if this man was ordered to  _ deal _ with him. It was a common practice in this type of government for suspicious personnel to mysteriously go missing, and Changgu was nothing more than a lowly Lieutenant. He looked around the room to weigh his options, just in case. They were alone with one exit, lest he risked jumping through the window on the opposite wall. It was early morning and anyone standing nearby would see him, but the drop wouldn't be too bad, only about forty feet, and not a horrible last resort.

He’d had worse before.

“The Commissar is promoting you to Regional Affairs Commissioner,” the tall man said and handed over a messily scrawled out letter. “As his Regional Advisor, I have been personally asked to oversee your duties.”

Oh. Well uhh… that was unexpected. Changgu was confused, of course, but who could blame him? He wasn't trained in this kind of politics (which, in hindsight, he should have been), and now he was expected to work with the commissar’s ridiculously, unnecessarily handsome advisor for the next couple months? He wasn't even _ from  _ this region.

“Do you have any questions?” The Advisor asked.

“Oh, uh…” Changgu stammered, he didn't know what to say. Maybe he should ask what the fuck a Regional Affairs Commissioner was and how it contributed to fighting the war? Or, who allowed such an attractive person to have such an elite position in government? He didn't know.  Instead, he asked something he probably shouldn’t have. “Why me?”

The Advisor considered him for a moment, before turning back to the file. “I presume you have a certain quality the Commissar and our Chairman think is necessary for establishing this new form of government. We all play an important role in getting on our feet, wouldn't you say, Commissioner?”

“Yes, sir, I suppose so.”

“Is that all, then?”

Changgu could feel himself about to be an idiot again, and he tried to stop himself, he really did, but he was too caught off guard to fully appreciate the fact he was still alive. “Tell the Commissar I’m flattered, sir, for the opportunity to work with an esteemed man such as yourself.” He fell into a deep bow, praying to the high heavens above he wouldn't get reported for his shit brain-to-mouth filter.

A relieved grin spread across his face when the Advisor merely rolled his eyes and huffed out a dry laugh. “You are excused, Commissioner Yeo…” he said, ignoring the play and dropping formalities with a wave of his hand toward the door. “We will meet every afternoon at 0200 from now on. Please do not be late.”

Changgu nodded and left with a bow.

………………

_ Tap tap. _

Minghao- no wait,  _ Commandant _ \- glared at Changgu from the corner of his eye. “Can you not?” He whispered.

Changgu tapped his pen again in response.

_ Tap tap. _

The Commandant stuck his tongue out at Changgu and turned back to face the Secretariat.

The meeting they were in was, in one word, boring.

Changgu was thoroughly, and utterly, bored.

The kind of deep-set boredom that sunk into his bones and gave him an intense urge to nap for three hours.

_ Tap tap. _

The Advisor cleared his throat from across the table. 

Changgu glance up, and  _ shit _ . The taller man had that look in his eyes - an annoying mix of disappointment and endeared humour. It always turned Changgu’s stomach and caused his heart to flutter whenever he saw it because it wasn't fair in the slightest. Who the hell allowed that man to be that pretty with so little effort?

The Advisor pointedly raised a brow at Changgu’s pen.

Damnit, now Changgu  _ actually  _ had to stop.

He decided to distract himself by sneaking glances at the Advisor’s profile instead, and occasionally making a mental note of some tidbit of information to report back to his aunt in London.  

The Advisor’s face was…. interesting, to say the least. Changgu had many opportunities to study it during their recent meetings together, and he still couldn't quite decide whether he liked it or not, but only because it was  _ nice _ . The Advisor had a masculine jaw shaped proudly under high-class porcelain white skin, topped with perfect crescent eyes. He was literally too perfect to be in this war, and Changgu almost felt unworthy to be in his mere presence, even when he tried  _ not _ to be.

“Do you agree, Regional Commissioner?”

Wait, shit, that was Changgu, wasn't it? Fuck, and now the Advisor was looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat, glancing around the table for a hint as to what the hell was going on. Minghao remained impassive except for a slight mirth in his eyes at seeing Changgu suffer, Junhui seemed about as involved as an unintelligent cow, and everyone else was watching him carefully, patiently anticipating a response. It was safe to say he was most likely going to accidentally get a lot of people killed with one word.

“I do,” he confirmed, tentatively. “I would like to look over the plan myself, though.”

The Secretariat nodded and slid a file down the table. 

It was a pitch to host an American observation army in an attempt to establish better relations, and, hopefully, find ways to undermine the United States Department of State in future operations. From a Chinese viewpoint, it was highly beneficial, and from the way the Advisor was nodding, obviously impressed, Changgu had guessed the right call.

Boo-yah.

Once the meeting finally,  _ finally  _ ended, Changgu got up to leave. He needed to go back to his quarters and write his aunt, update her on what just happened before he forgot. 

But then Minghao saddled up next to him. 

“Nice job today,” he muttered quietly to Changgu as they left the main building. The early dusk chill helped wake Changgu up a little, and eased some of the tension he felt building around his shoulders. “I’d never have the balls to let the American’s anywhere near this place.”

Changgu snorted. “You wouldn't even let your own mother come here.”

“Well, yeah. Would you?” Minghao gestured to the decrepit, bombed-out city around them. “It smells like shit, looks like shit, and probably tastes like shit too.”

Changgu hummed in agreement and turned the corner. If he made it to his quarters before Junhui caught up and invited them out to drinks, he'd be in the clear.

“Hey, do you guys want to go out for drinks?”

Phooey.

“Sure!” Minghao beamed at Junhui as he strode up next to them. “Changgu?”

Changgu quickened his pace. “Can’t, sorry,” he stalled, “I have to fill out some paperwork.” Truthfully, he didn't have anything to do. He was simply trying to fulfill his civil duty and not fraternize with the (technical) enemy. He sucked at it, yeah, but he was also naturally charismatic and just so happened to be good at making friends. For example, after his promotion, it took Minghao three days to get comfortable around him; four for Junhui. 

“Great!” Junhui exclaimed with a clap of his hands. He stepped in front of Changgu to effectively cut off his path to sweet reclusion. “So you're coming,” he grinned coyly.

Changgu blinked, then slumped his shoulders in defeat. “Fine, but only one drink,” he sighed, ignoring Minghao’s delighted squeal.“I really  _ do  _ have work, though. The Regional Advisor is already riding my ass for procrastinating, and I can’t give him more reason to report me.”

Junhui waved his hand dismissively with a scoff, and turned them around to walk towards the only bar in the city, “I invited him too, so he’ll be a real dickface if he does that.”

Changgu’s ass rose to his throat. “What?” 

The Advisor, their  _ superior _ , was going out drinking with them. That was  _ not  _ right and Changgu didn't even know if he wanted to associate the Advisor with an alcohol serving environment.

“He looked like he needed a drink, so I offered to order him one,” Junhui shrugged as if this wasn't a mildly dangerous situation.

“He  _ has _ seemed kind of lonely lately,” Minghao offered, a finger tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I saw him sitting by himself in that gazebo in the gardens last week and wanted to ask if he needed company, but I didn't get the chance.”

Changgu frowned and studied the rhythm of their moving feet. The Advisor was too attractive to be alone like that.

Wow, that sounded weird.

Junhui opened the door to the bar. “Don't you work pretty closely with him, Changgu?”

Changgu nodded and walked to an empty table near the counter. Soldiers from what was left of the CPC Army were already spread out around the room, laughing and talking loudly about everything and anything except the war. A few lieutenants were scattered here and there, sitting alone and glaring into their drinks, silently cursing their men who’d deserted for the Republic. 

The building itself was quaint. Miraculously left untouched by the bombings purely for the sanctity of alcohol consumption and the inherent human need for relaxed socialization. Changgu hardly ever came in here. The last few times having ended very very very badly. The smirk he got from the bartender as he sat down just helped prove his point. They knew each other  _ quite  _ well.

Minghao sat next to him. “The Advisor seems like the type to loosen up when the Commissar isn't around,” he commented. Junhui nodded in agreement. 

Changgu hummed, stretching his arms above his head. The Advisor behind closed doors was drastically different from the Advisor in the meeting room. It had taken Changgu a couple of months to realise the taller man was only comfortable within certain boundaries (i.e. hardly ever), and it took  _ another _ month for the superior to finally relax during their meetings. Changgu had figured it out completely by accident, too. Somehow, they’d gotten onto the topic of local music, and the Advisor sheepishly revealed his well established Chinese violin skills. Naturally, Changgu just  _ had _ to put his foot in his mouth and admit he thought that was the coolest shit ever, even going so far as asking if he could listen to him play someday.

“God, I wish I had your job sometimes,” Minghao pouted and leaned forward against the table, an extreme pout on his face. “I’d let him meet me long and hard all day if you know what I mean.”

Changgu slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Junhui reached across the table to smack Minghao’s head, muttering “you can’t say that shit, dumbass,” through a laugh.

“What?!” Minghao exclaimed, “Changgu thinks so too. Don't you Changgu?”

Changgu sobered immediately. He was about to crawl under the table and die right then and there -because yeah, he would love that, but he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone or himself- if the Advisor hadn't walked up.

“Sorry I'm late,” the tall man muttered apologetically. “What's so funny?” He asked when he noticed Junhui’s annoyed smirk and Minghao’s shaking shoulders. Changgu refused to acknowledge the blush he was surely sporting and hoped the Advisor would too.

“Nothing,” he forced out, grinning a little too widely at Minghao to shut him up. “We were just talking about the Secretariat's new mustache.”

The Advisor let out a disgusted groan as he took off his uniform jacket. “It’s absolutely horrendous. I told him not to let it grow out like that, but  _ no _ , it looks good on our fearless Chairman, it'll  _ have  _ to look good on him.”

Changgu snickered and turned to watch a drunk soldier trip over himself on the other side of the room. When he looked back, the Advisor’s dark eyes were on him, watching him with a deep swirl of…. what was that? ...Interest? Whatever it was, interest or something else, it sent a sharp zing of heat straight to Changgu’s belly.

Oh dear.

Junhui, the ass, noticed, and, ever the one to start unnecessary drama, stood up suddenly, announcing he and Minghao would get the first round. Minghao squinted at him before taking the hint, and they were off.

Leaving Changgu, and a very attractive, very… interested?…. Advisor behind.

Yikes.

“So do you-”

“How are-”

Changgu looked away bashfully. He wanted to go to bed, he was not emotionally prepared for this.

“You go first,” The Advisor said warmly.

Changgu let out an embarrassed huff. “Well, I was going to ask if you come here often, but it sounded less like a proposition in my head.”

The Advisor grinned. “Yes, that does sound rather outlandish…. But no, I don’t. This is my first time, actually.”

“Oh really?” Changgu quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing like I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

The Advisor swept his gaze across the sitting men and women. “More dancing,” he confessed.

Changgu’s heart clenched at the deep look in the Advisor’s eyes. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe you can start a trend around here, sir. Find a beautiful nurse and take her out onto the floor like the good old days…”  _ Before the war. _

The Advisor gave him a small smile before looking down at where his hands were clasped on the table. “I wouldn’t know how to ask one of the women out, let alone  _ dance  _ with them,” he said quietly. He lifted his head up again before Changgu could respond. “May I ask you something, Commissioner?”

“Oh, uh… yes, of course…” Changgu drummed his fingers again, bewildered. He wasn't sure what to expect, and he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with not being in full control of the situation.

“Can we drop the formalities?” The Advisor asked, eyes wide with unadulterated innocence. “Outside of work?” he added.

Changgu didn’t respond. Hell, he didn't know  _ how  _ to respond. All he could do was nod because never his years of training -learning the in’s and out’s of the enemy- had he heard of someone so close to the Big Guy being so open and free. So okay with defying the system they were trying to implement.

“What’s your name?” He shocked himself by asking. 

The Advisor seemed pleased with the question, his eyes crinkling happily. “Yanan,” he said, proudly wiggling his hips a little. 

Oh god, he was so adorable. It felt like Changgu was being coddled and fisted in the throat all at the same time. He hated it.

“Yanan….” The name slipped out of his mouth, rolled nicely off his tongue, without prompting. “Like The Red Capital?”

The Advisor -Yanan- shot him a withering smirk. “No. Like the family name.”

Changgu furrowed his brow. “You're family’s named after our city?” He was being facetious and he knew it, but a man had to do what a man had to do to keep his dick uninterested.

Yanan didn’t dignify him with a response and turned his head toward the bar counter where Minghao and Junhui were standing a little  _ too  _ close - beaming a little  _ too  _ much at each other as they waited for their drinks. 

“I’m Changgu,” he said after a moment, drawing Yanan’s attention back to him. “It’s good to finally meet you, Yanan. Properly, that is.”

Yanan smiled widely and nodded, that glint Changgu was starting to hate back in his eyes. 

It wasn’t the conversation Changgu’d been expecting. He thought there’d be more awkward silence and uncomfortable throat clears, but he liked this. It felt nice to sit with Yanan, laugh and tease him the way he would any other friend. Minghao bounced back to the table then and plopped a liter of beer down in front of Yanan. 

Junhui set one next to Changgu as he took his seat.“Here’s to the Japanese destroying our enemy for us,” he announced and raised his glass.

Okay, so what if getting on a first name basis with Yanan might turn out to be a bad thing? Yeah sure, there was at least a 50% chance it was going to come back and bite Changgu in the ass, but, he realised with an underwhelming start as he brought his glass to his lips, he couldn't bring himself care all that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter doesn't have as much exposition and is when the story actually starts.
> 
> Also, it might not be clear, but they say what city they're in a bunch of times and it's actually kinda funny if you can figure it out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story actually starts and things become even more of a gay anime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're in the city of Yanan, by the way.

“The American’s come in today.”

“Oh really? I didn't know.”

“Please do not be sarcastic, Commissioner,” Yanan hid his exacerbated grimace behind a piece of paper.

Changgu grinned, poking his tongue into his cheek and leaning back in his chair. “Do we have everything prepared for their arrival?” 

“Mostly,” Yanan sighed, flipping through pages and pages of paperwork, “we just need to make sure they don't go into the Left Wing or meet any Non-Rectified, but the Guard is primarily in charge of that.”

“Great, so we’re all set?” Changgu clicked his pen shut to emphasise how ready he was to leave the stuffy old meeting room.

Yanan shrugged, closing his folder in an attempt to hide the corners of his lips softly curling up.“Yes,” he said and pushed himself to his feet, “they're landing in an hour.”

Changgu winked as he left the room.

An hour later, he found himself standing out on the tarmac, the scorching sun shining down on them as the signature white stripes of an American bomber descended from the sky.

“It's a little ostentatious, isn't it?” Junhui murmured, shielding his eyes to see better.

Changgu looked down the line of government personnel. Yanan was standing four men away, two to the right of their rather bovine leader (who insisted on being called Chairman; Changgu thought it was because the man always needed to sit down after five minutes of physical activity) and one away from where Minghao should’ve been. The vivacious skinny man hadn’t shown up this morning for a reason not even Junhui knew.

“What is?” He asked.

“Their aircraft presentation. I've seen them fly over a few times on their way to Burma. It’s like they’re flaunting their,” Junhui lifted his fingers to make air quotes, “ _ life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness  _ ideology.”

“How do you know they follow those principles?” Changgu raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him. They weren't supposed to know that kind of thing. Hell, it was strictly prohibited because it went directly against every value their government was attempting to base itself off of.

For a split second, Junhui froze, as if he'd been caught canoodling with the Japanese before he opened his mouth to respond. “It’s in the file of things we rectify for.”

The roar of the plane engine cut their conversation short as it screeched down the path, drawing up clouds of dust in its wake. When it came to a stop, the Commissar and their Bovine Leader stepped out of line to greet the Americans as they came down the ramp. He waited for their Bovine Leader to motion for him and another Commissioner to step forward.

“You must be Mr. Yeo, our translator for the next two weeks,” a man with pale wrinkled skin, blue eyes, and a balding scalp said, sticking his hand out to shake.

Changgu smiled and bowed, taking the man’s hand in his. “Yes, and you are Major General Casey, the leader of this exchange.” He put more of an accent on his speech for appearance's sake.

Casey chuckled. “I wouldn't say leader, son, but yes. I am in charge.”

Changgu had to physically hold back a grimace. This man was as American as Americans got. He quickly introduced their Bovine Leader -barely catching himself from signing his death warrant and actually describing the man as large- and the Commissar. Commissioner Qian introduced himself as the groups’ secondary translator.

It took another ten minutes for four of the Americans to introduce themselves with Changgu and Commissioner Qian translating, and physical relief washed through him as the last man stepped forward. He was even shorter than their Bovine Leader and had a kind smile gracing his lips.

“Jinho Jo, Director of Asian Affairs,” the short man said. Changgu translated and waited for him to shake hands with the Commissar.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Jo,” he said when he got to him, grasping the other man’s small hand. He’d never referred to Jinho as ‘Mr. Jo’ before. It felt kind of greasy.

“Good to see you,” Jinho whispered, squeezing his hand with an almost playful gleam in his eye. “I’m sure you’ll make our stay a good one.”

They spent the next half hour introducing the rest of the line. All. Twenty. Men.

Changgu was exhausted and needed a water break by the end of it. The only thing to make it at least somewhat worth it was the way Yanan had looked at him, amazed and fascinated by his well-spoken English as he introduced the five Americans. It was what kept him going until he was walking down the main hallway of the Right Wing, Americans and three superiors including Yanan trailing behind him, Commissioner Qian next to him. 

Balancing the double-edged sword that was Changgu’s life for the next two weeks was going to give him an aneurysm, dear god.

…………..

Changgu shifted from foot to foot and looked out the tiny, stained window again.

Where was he? He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.

Maybe he'd gotten caught. The Americans were leaving tomorrow, maybe security was on high alert around them.

“He’s a smart man, you know,” Feifei said from her chair. “He wouldn't let himself get caught so easily.”

“You don't know the Red Guard like I do, Aunt Fei,” Changgu muttered. He ignored her raised eyebrow in favour of pacing around the small house.

He should go out and look for him. It would be the best thing to do, and if the other man  _ was  _ caught, Changgu would at least know sooner rather than later.

“Don't go looking for him,” Feifei remarked distractedly. 

Changgu was almost positive she was a witch or something, she always seemed to know what he was thinking.

He stopped by the fireplace and let out an exasperated sigh. “Why?”

She threaded another silk strand through the loom with a shrug.

Sometimes, Changgu got  _ really  _ frustrated with her.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked to keep himself from screaming.

“Yes. Have you?”

“Not since this morning.”

“You're too skinny,” she clicked her tongue without looking up. “Go get the door.”

There was a soft knock a second later. 

See? Goddamn witchcraft.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding left Changgu in a whoosh as the pattern they'd agreed on was tapped into the wood. “Witch,” he muttered as he passed Feifei.

“Milksop,” she retorted.

He opened the door with an eye roll and grinned when he was met with an arm full of warm Jinho. See, this made the last two weeks of rapid language changes and conflicting motives seem so much better than they actually were. Feifei made a noise at them, most likely telling them to cut the shit and close the door, but Changgu didn't care. He had his brother back. Well… sort of brother.

“It's good to see you again,” Jinho greeted in Korean once he let go, a hand on Changgu’s shoulder.

Changgu felt tears prick at his eyes. He’d totally forgotten how the beautiful Korean was. “You too, hyung” he sighed, the first words he’d spoken in his natural tongue in who knew how long. It felt wrapping himself up in his childhood blanket next to the fireplace.

“Can you two stop being gross and shut the damn door?” Feifei griped, switching to Korean as well. “You're letting a draft in, and what if someone sees you?”

Jinho chuckled and stepped further inside to let the door close. He bowed to Feifei, “Fei-gomo, it’s good to finally meet you.”

Feifei smiled at him and bowed her head. She turned to Changgu, “See, this is the kind of respect I deserve. I don't risk my ass sending your damn letters to your handler in London to be called a witch-”

“Thank you, gomo,” Changgu interjected through clenched teeth. Feifei stared at him, thoroughly unimpressed.

They sat down for tea ten minutes of bickering later. 

Jinho was the first to speak. “The president wanted me to thank you,” he directed at Feifei, “for everything you’ve been doing for the Project.”

She snorted into her steaming cup. “Fat load of shit that’s worth…”

“What? Is something wrong?” Jinho sat up straight, concern etching through his features. “Are you in danger?”

Feifei took a sip of tea, unperturbed. “No, the guards don't bother me. They think I'm a harmless, old silk weaver who likes her privacy. I’m just bored out of my mind.”

“Well, they've got two of those things right,” Changgu murmured into his cup. His eyes flicked to the barely-there crow's feet around her eyes and single gray hair.

Feifei flared her nostrils at him. “I will shoot you.”

Jinho giggled. 

They fell into silence as they drank their tea, occasionally crunching on a cracker. Changgu had so many questions for Jinho, so many things he wanted an update on, but he decided on the most important one.

“How many are left?”

Jinho glanced up and shrugged. “Eight. Hyojung is due to check in next week, but it’s been two months since we last heard from three in Germany. We’re assuming they're dead until further notice….”

Alright, three unconfirmed losses out of twelve, those were okay numbers, considering. Changgu didn't care much about those, they were the Germans and he didn't like them much even since the beginning of the Project. But the math didn't add up. Someone had died.

“Who died?”

Jinho didn’t meet his eyes at first, focusing rather intently on contents in his cup. Releasing a low breath, he looked up and quietly whispered, “...Yuta.”

Changgu’s blood ran cold, dread seeping through his body. He didn't even want to know how it happened. He felt Jinho lay a warm, comforting hand over his; h knew how close they’d during the training period. Changgu, Yuto, and Yuta.

“What about you, hmm?” Jinho changed the subject. “How do they not suspect you even though you're Korean?”

Changgu took a deep breath and put his teacup down with a shake of his head to clear away the grief threatening the edges of his vision. “Supposedly, I'm a Chinese orphan with a weird name and big eyes,” he widened his eyes for comic effect but got a flick on the ear from Feifei. It hurt. A lot. “What was that for?!?” He threw a hand over his stinging ear to protect it from further damage.

“You looked really annoying, I'm sorry,” her apathetic shrug contradicted her wet eyes. “Jinho-yah, have you eaten?” She asked, suddenly the sweet and benevolent aunt she was supposed to be.

What the heck was this favoritism?

“Oh, no, I haven't….”

“I'll make you some rice,” she got up and went to the kitchen without a glance at Changgu.

Once she was out of earshot, Jinho faced him, a serious set to his brow. “What's the Left Wing?”

Changgu spat his tea out onto the table. “Where did you hear about that?” He ignored Feifei’s complaints.

“The guards outside my room were talking about dragging one of you guys there in the middle of the night a couple weeks ago.”

Oh right, Jinho spoke Chinese.

Changgu paused. He should tell Jinho, or at least give him the nutshell of what happened in the Left Wing, but that would be breaking protocol. Not just the Chinese’s, but his missions’ as well.

“Did they say who they brought in?” He asked rather than put his ass on the line any more than it already was, a ball of fear as to who it might be already beginning to swallow his gut whole. This was worse than the news of Yuta’s death. 

Jinho shook his head, “no, sorry. I was going to tell Casey, but I wanted to make sure you hadn't already sent information on it to your handler first....”

Changgu didn't hear the last part, his mind already reeling with names and recent actions.  _ Anything  _ to give him some sort of clue as to who-

Oh damn.

Goddamnit. Shit.

_ Fuck. _

“The Left Wing is where we send people to be brainwashed, hyung. They get tortured, trained, reprogrammed….” he took an unsteady breath, because the realization of what was happening, what  _ will  _ happen, was just too daunting for him. “Anyone who goes there ...they don't come back the same, if they come back at all….”

Minghao had been missing for eight days.

…………

Junhui was not in a good mood. Changgu could tell as soon as the other man walked into the meeting room and slumped into his seat, casting a forlorn look at the desolate chair Minghao usually sat in. He’d been missing for two weeks now, and they’d both long since stopped trying to find where he’d gone, the harsh truth becoming atrociously clear when day ten hit. Changgu had thought not knowing was bad, but knowing exactly what had happened was like finding out his dog back home had been brutally used as a Satanic sacrifice. 

Yanan caught his eye from across the table and quirked a brow in Junhui’s direction, asking if he was okay. Changgu gave a minuscule shake of his head, discreetly pointing his pen at Minghao’s empty chair. Yanan let out a soft, sympathetic breath as the Commissar began his debrief on recent events regarding the war further east. If Changgu had to summarise the few words he'd managed to pay attention to, he'd say Italy was rather well fucked out.

As soon as the meeting was over, he fell into step with Junhui as they left the Grand Hall. “We’re getting drinks,” he stated, offering no room for denial. He’d decided the best thing to do for this man right now was to get him so shit-faced, he’d think they were in Australia.

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes you do,” Changgu pulled his arm in the direction of the bar when he tried to walk away.

Junhui huffed indignantly but relented.

An hour and a good fifth of whiskey later, Junhui had his head leaning heavily against his arm precariously propped on the bar, and only a small pout on his face compared to the full-on gloom he’d had earlier.

“You know….” he began airily, “you don’t look Chinese.”

Changgu chuckled, downing the rest of his glass. “I have big eyes, Junnie.”

“No, but… like… your face,” Junhui waved a hand around his own sharp features as his eyes fell closed, “it’s too  _ big.  _ Too wide.”

“Ouch,” Changgu grunted dryly. He’d never heard that one before.

“Is he okay?” Yanan walked up and thankfully stopped Junhui from commenting further on Changgu’s wrong Asian features. He took his jacket off to lay across the chair next to him.

“I am fan-fucking-tastic, Advisor. How ‘bout you?” Junhui opened his eyes to grimace at the taller man.

Changgu patted his shoulder sympathetically and looked up at Yanan. Christ, he looked good today, hair pushed back and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. “He’s doing better after some of man’s best friend,” he nodded to the almost empty liquor bottle in front of him. Yanan studied the remaining whiskey. With a decisive hum, he glanced at the bartender by the other end of the counter before reaching over and grabbing another glass and a full bottle.

“Comrade,” Junhui over exaggerated a gasp, “that was illegal.”

Yanan snorted as he took the open bottle from Changgu, and poured the rest into his glass. “It’s not illegal until you get caught,” he rationalised as he uncorked the new bottle.

Fuck. That was hot.

Changgu should probably stop drinking. Things could get out of hand. Or more, Yanan could get  _ in  _ hand. 

Either way he looked at it, it would end very, very badly. Very bad. 

“That seems fair,” he agreed, to shut down thoughts of what Yanan would look like shirtless and sweaty underneath his fitted uniform jacket.

Yanan hummed into his whiskey.

“Alright, well,” Junhui grunted as he sat up straight, and pushed himself into a standing position. “Before you two start flirting like teenagers again, I’m going to bed.”

“We don’t flirt!” Changgu and Yanan yelled in unison.

Junhui raised a patronizing eyebrow before leaving.

And then it was awkward. Changgu had to sip his drink to wet his suddenly dry mouth, and oh boy that was a mistake, he thought as he tried not to wince at the burn sliding down his throat. 

A group of rowdy soldiers stomped in and sat at a table behind them. Their conversation almost drowning out the band playing softly in the corner. It was like any other day, but it felt different. The general atmosphere of the bar was reposeful, a calm before a storm that no one was preparing for.

“It's funny…” Yanan mused, swirling the golden brown liquid around his glass.

Changgu turned his eyes up to study his expression. It was stunning. “What is?” His voice was barely above a whisper, not able to bring himself to speak properly, because Yanan’s beauty was taking his breath away despite how much he was telling himself it wasn't.

Yanan pursed his lips. “The comradery around here,” he murmured after some thought. At the responding snort, he rolled his eyes and said, “You know what I mean, don't be like that.” He lightly jostled his shoulder against Changgu’s.

“No no, I get it. We do things we’re not supposed to when we’re in here,” Changgu tilted his head towards a table in the back, decked with playing cards and cigarettes; surrounded by men in varying degrees of excitement. He turned his pointed gaze at a woman in promiscuous clothing, sitting on a Commissioners lap, “we enjoy things we shouldn't.” His eyes settled on Yanan as he finished, “but we don't turn each other in because we don't know when or if we’ll lose the luxury of it. If one day we’ll fall asleep and a simple order will ensure we never wake up again.”

Yanan held his stare for a few moments, eyes mixing with emotions, cheeks dusted pink. Changgu thought for a second they could maybe mean something other than the effects of alcohol. “Are you afraid of not knowing when that day will come, Mr. Yeo?”

Changgu couldn't hold his expression and had to look into his glass with a soft smile. “Aren't we all, Advisor?”

There was a tense pause as if they were both thinking something neither of them wanted to voice.

Then Yanan cleared his throat. “Let’s say it's true,” he puts his empty glass down and turned his head. His eyes boring into the side of Changgu’s face as he continued, “That we’re all just pawns in a game we can't control. Do you think they'd actually do it? Strip us of everything, even life, because we don't matter as long as they reach a near impossible goal?” 

Changgu looked up, the attention from Yanan causing blood to creep onto his cheeks. He forced it down because Yeo Changgu didn't blush. He  _ didn't.  _ He tried to think of a good answer, something that wouldn't make him out to be suspicious, but he couldn't. He’d drank more than enough alcohol and Yanan’s mere proximity was fogging up his mind. So he said, “I think, no matter what might happen, we can't predict it. We can't guarantee we’re important to our new government, like how we can't guarantee we’re not.”

Yanan hummed and poured himself another drink. They fell quiet again, listening to each other’s breathing and the soft din of the bar around them. After a few moments, Yanan spoke up again. “Honestly, if I knew - genuinely  _ knew -  _ when they might have me killed, I’d do something stupid.”

A bark of laughter ripped out of Changgu. Wow, he wasn't expecting that. “What constitutes as stupid?”

“Oh, y’know…” Yanan half-shrugged a shoulder and ran a finger along the ring of his glass. “Just something I would never normally do, or something I've never done before.”

“Like ask a girl out to dance?”

“Like go out with a bang,” Yanan met Changgu’s eyes with a damn near hungry look.  _ Shit. _

Changgu gulped. A bead of sweat formed at the base of his hairline. “Literally or euphemistically?” He said with a forced grin. He put all of his energy into pretending Yanan’s words weren't affecting him.

Yanan sipped his drink with a considering sound. “Both,” he said eventually.

A chuckle rippled up through Changgu’s chest. It was like fate, but at the same time, a one-way ticket to the Left Wing for them both. “Honestly, Yananie, if I had someone like that, I would too.”

The nickname slipped out before he could process his words, but something in Yanan’s eyes flared. A different kind of tension perched itself in the air between them, the space getting smaller the longer they drink, their arms brushing every so often.

“You wouldn't mind risking it? Even if you _ weren't  _ going to die?” Yanan asked, eyeing him carefully.

Changgu slugged down his drink as an answer. He didn’t. He really didn't, because he couldn't get someone out of his mind; one with perfect lips, long legs, and a killer smile- and it was driving him crazy enough to  _ want  _ the end. “I don’t care...” he whispered, more to himself than Yanan.

Hearing Yanan’s breath hitch slightly made him realise how close they were now. “

“But there  _ is  _ someone.”

“So what if there is?”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not one to judge,” Yanan held his hands up placatingly. Changgu studied him. He couldn’t decide if that meant Yanan swang the same way as him, or if he just didn’t care. One thing was for sure though, they were both breaking at least six laws in this one conversation.

“What about you? Any of the nurses… or other…. catch your eye yet?”

Yanan twinkled a laughed. “Well, there is this  _ one  _ person…”

“Ooo… do tell,” Changgu propped his head up on an arm to grin at Yanan even though he felt inexcusably jealous of this faceless  _ person _ .

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m not even sure if they like me back.”

“Have you asked?” the alcohol inquired.

Yanan’s eyes were dark, pupils inflating impossibly further and he took a deep breath. Changgu watched him with hooded eyes, leaning in close, his body heavy.

“Can I?”

They couldn't do this here.

They  _ shouldn't _ .

But he wanted to. So so badly did he want to kiss Yanan, take his lips and bite them, make them even more swollen than they already were.

“Why not?” 

“I’m afraid of the answer,” Yanan was close enough now for Changgu to feel his breath fan across his face. A voice in the back of his head screamed at him that maybe there was no faceless third person, maybe it was Changgu who Yanan liked.

He took a chance, because this could so easily be their last night to live, the last night they could do the one thing they craved most. “Don’t be.”

Yanan’s gaze found Changgu’s soul, filling every fiber of his being and swallowing him whole all at the same time. “Do you….?”

A thrill ran through Changgu’s veins, adrenaline coursing through every muscle in his body as his mouth opened to speak. He wouldn't have done it in a million years, but now he had, and he didn't regret it one bit, because this was Yanan and they were both drunk.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is the longest but the only one worth reading, tbh


	3. Chapter 3

Changgu sat up groggily the next morning, preparing himself for the inevitable feeling of death, and he prayed to whoever was listening his hangover wouldn’t make him throw up. But, surprisingly, he felt fine. More than fine, actually. A little cold, but only because he was nak-

Someone rapped their knuckles against his door. “Changgu.”

The knocking got louder as the person on the other side yelled his name again, and Changgu had to move before they broke down his door and found him naked in bed with bruise marks all along his thighs.  _ Shit.  _

“Hold on!” He yelled back, and rolled off his bed onto the floor, grabbing the closest pieces of clothing and throwing them on. “Yes?” he said as he opened the door. A small, part of him was hoping it was Yanan for some stupid reason, but no, it wasn't. “Junhui?”

“I found him,” Junhui breathed out. He looked horrible. Like he hadn’t slept in years and decided to roll through the woods with honey stuck on his clothes. “I found him,” he said again, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the doorframe.

Changgu’s stomach clenched. Minghao. “Where?” was all he asked.

A dark look marred Junhui’s otherwise handsome features. “The Left Wing.”

“How do you know he’s still alive?”

Junhui didn’t answer, only stared at Changgu for a few seconds, before pushing past him into his quarters. Changgu shut the door with a click and waited. The silence was deafening, making his ears ring as he watched Junhui pace around the floor with waring emotions scrawling across his face. He stopped by the desk and looked Changgu in the eye. “Can I trust you?”

_ Of course,  _ Changgu wanted to say. He wanted to say he could tell him anything because  _ he _ would if their positions were reversed, but then the decoder and recent letter from his aunt behind Junhui caught his eye. He’d forgotten he’d left those out last night. It just served as a reminder they shouldn’t be friends. 

“Yes,” he responded, because fuck it, he hated this job anyway. “...Can I trust you?”

Junhui’s eyes bored into the ground by his feet. He was thinking so loudly Changgu could practically hear him. “I’m a good Commander,” he said quietly, “I’m loyal to my country.” He looked up into Changgu’s eyes then, “But…. I need to save him, Changgu… I can’t let them kill him, or-or turn him into someone I won’t recognise….”

Ugh, god. The look in Junhui’s eyes made Changgu’s heart hurt, he looked so heartbroken, so sad. He walked over to his desk and carefully put the decoder in a drawer before facing Junhui with determination set in his brow.

“We’re going to save him,” he declared.

Junhui looked at him with watery eyes. “How?”

…………….

The Left Wing, when looking at it from a purely architectural standpoint, was built symmetrically to the Right Wing. When navigating one’s way around, one would think them to be exactly the same to the last detail. But, in actuality, they weren’t. Thanks to Junhui’s somewhat extensive knowledge of the Rectification program as a Commander, and Changgu’s sticky fingers when it came to files he wasn’t supposed to touch, they were able to plan a vague but foolproof rescue mission for Minghao.

Changgu called it,  _ Operation Save True Love _ . He thought it sounded romantic.

That night, they met down the hall from the big red double doors that lead to the Left Wing. Two guards were posted outside, one on each end; one for each to take out.

Without a word, Junhui strutted up to them, Changgu close behind. The guard on the right stopped them with his gun.

“I am sorry, sirs. It is not time yet,” he said. He reminded Changgu of the artificial intelligence robot an American scientist had tried to build in competition with the Project.

“Stand down, comrade,” Junhui commanded. He was not having it today.

The soldier shook his head, “I am sorry, Commander.”

Junhui huffed. “I’m really gonna have to do this to him aren’t I?” he directed to question at Changgu, still staring the young soldier down.

Changgu rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Unfortunately.”

“Sorry, kid. Nothing personal,” Junhui said before he threw a closed fist at the left guard's cheek as Changgu kicked the right guard in the stomach and elbowed him down. They moved the unconscious soldiers out of sight and pushed through the doors.

The inside was nothing like Changgu thought it would be. The completely red walls and floors made the equally spaced apart doors on either wall look almost daunting, giving the illusion the hall went on for eternity. An eerie silence sent a chill down Changgu’s back, the only sound being his and Junhui’s breathing.

Junhui was the first to move, carefully stepping forward until he found the Elite’s set of cells; that was what they were, the welcoming doors merely a false facade to what each room hid. Changgu pulled a gun out of his belt and held it at the ready, motioning Junhui behind him as he cautiously turned into the section. No guards. Good. He jerked his head for Junhui to keep going. 

Changgu had thought he’d seen just about every horrific thing this government could do, but nothing,  _ nothing _ , could have prepared him for this. His throat caught as symbol after symbol representing what the person inside was being rectified for was painted right smack in the center of the wood, name after name, each as important as the last. He knew some of them, had worked with most of them, and they'd all seemed fine; more loyal to the cause than their door suggested. Probably even more than their Bovine Leader. But it wasn't Their Bovine Leader being subjected to this; he would never be.

Junhui sucked in a harsh breath further down the hall. He was standing in front of a door with two symbols rather than one, two that had even Changgu’s stomach role with bile as he stepped behind Junhui.

Of fucking course they would rectify someone for being overly happy every day.

This government was the definition of hypocrisy, and Changgu was sick of it.

He lowered his gun, anger filling his chest. If he wasn't already determined to get Minghao and Junhui the fuck out of here, smuggle them onto a plane destined for England where his handler was waiting for them, he fucking was now. He reached out a shaking hand to open the door and push it open.

The sight that greeted them was one he could have gone his whole life without.

Junhui let out a choked sob and ran to Minghao's frail, beaten body, hanging by the wrists from the ceiling, his head dropped forward. He was in nothing but a rag wrapped haphazardly around his waist. Changgu consciously noticed there was blood everywhere. Minghao couldn’t still be alive after that kind of violence.

Changgu checked the hall again before stepping inside. “Is he alive?” He turned to see Junhui lift Minghao from the hook and carefully lower him onto the ground.

A stream of curses was leaving Junhui’s mouth. He put his ear to the other man’s chest, listening for a sign of life, then he sat up and looked at Changgu.

The dread settling in Changgu’s bones alleviated a bit at his small nod.

“Get him up,” Changgu ordered. He helped Junhui wrap one of Minghao’s arms around his neck, and they left the room.

This was the hardest part of the plan - getting out. The only exits were either through a shoot in the very back of the wing, where those who failed to be rectified were sent. Most of them were usually half-way through rigor mortis by that time, so it was likely to be very gross. And the other was going back the way they came while somehow getting past that sixteen guards stationed along the route leading into the woods.

Changgu had been leaning towards the vermin-infested death tube, but Junhui had voted the latter, and since this was  _ his _ friend they were rescuing, Changgu had caved.

He gripped his gun in both hands, holding it in front of him as they moved out of the section and turned for the doors that took them into the Grand Hall. 

“Stop.”

Changgu froze.

It was Yanan. Standing there in the middle of the hall, blocking their path. Aiming his pistol right between Changgu’s eyes. 

It felt like tank rolled over Changgu and turned around to squash him again.

Junhui stiffened next to him.

“Yanan…” Changgu breathed out, his heart in his throat. He couldn't help but lower his gun. Junhui shifted so that he and Minghao were hidden behind him.

“Don't move,” Yanan commanded, voice hard and authoritative. “Guards!”

Changgu gulped. He wasn't going to win this firefight. Even if he was forced to, his life put on the line, he'd never be able to hurt Yanan. There was the sound of clambering in the distance as soldiers guarding the far side of the Left Wing responded.

“Yanan, please…. don't do this.”

“Shut up.”

“Just… let Junhui go, okay?”

“Shut  _ up. _ ”

“He has nothing to do with thi-”

“I said shut up!”

Changgu snapped his mouth closed. Yanan sounded so angry, so hurt, and… betrayed? 

Suddenly, it made sense. Why Yanan was here, how he caught them, why he was looking at Changgu and only Changgu like he was the very bane of his existence. 

Yanan had seen the decoder and Changgu’s letters to his aunt in England when they were in his quarters last night.

He'd found him out.

“You know…” he breathed. It was silly, he knew, to state the obvious but there was nothing else he could say. Now was not the time for jokes or aloofness.

For once in Changgu’s life, he was entirely unprepared.

Something horrible crossed Yanan’s face at the words. “You're a fucking spy,” he spat.

Changgu winced, but he couldn't deny it. “Yes.” He heard Junhui inhale sharply behind him like he really didn't know, even after Changgu had been so willing to go against the government and partake in a prison break.

“And they are too,” Yanan moved his gun to point at Junhui and Minghao’s motionless body behind him.

“No no no,” Changgu shifted to block them again, “they're just like us, Yanan, nothing else.”

_ Us _ . There was no  _ us _ \- not anymore. Maybe only for one, amazing night. But christ, he hoped it worked. If he could get Junhui and Minghao to safety, he’d die a happy man. But they were running out of time.

“Please, just let them go, and then you can do whatever you want to me…”

Yanan’s hard eyes shifted between him and Junhui, ripe with waring emotions before finally,  _ thankfully  _ he pointed his gun back at Changgu only. “Fine,” was all he said, the sound of footsteps running towards them getting louder.

Changgu let out a breath and handed Junhui his gun. He knew he wasn't going to use it. “Go to Feifei, the old silk weaver. Tell her ‘Vatican Cameos’, and she’ll know what to do from there,” he said hurriedly.

Junhui took the gun and looked into his eyes. “What about you?”

Changgu only gave him a small, half-smile. There wasn't much he could say except the one thing that had surprised him most since he'd arrived here. “You were a good friend, Junhui.”

_ Friend.  _ The word seemed to spark through Junhui’s eyes, and he blinked. “Thank you, Changgu….” he whispered.

And then he was leaving, pulling Minghao’s limp body along with him, the gun clenched tightly in his hand. He gave Yanan a hesitant look as he stepped past him and out the doors.

Changgu faced Yanan and lifted his hands, palms up in surrender. “I'm sorry….”

Yanan scoffed. “Bull _ shit _ ,” he bit out, his finger clawed at the trigger, pure rage burning in his eyes.

Changgu’s heart dropped and shattered at the menace in his tone. “You don't have to do this…” he tried. “You can come with us. Leave here and never look back, enjoy all those things you told me about without having to worry if they’ll get you killed.”

Yanan breathed hard as he gripped the gun tighter. “Was that your endgame all along? Get me to soften up around you -tell you things I'd never tell anyone else, just so you can take me back to your country and use me against my government?”

“Of course not!” Changgu felt heat flare up his cheeks. Yanan’s words were cutting through him like a knife. “Yanan, I-” the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks right then, cutting his voice short and his heart gave a hard tug. He hadn't even thought this could be possible, that he could actually let himself feel for someone as much as he does Yanan.

“You what?”

“I fell for you, Yanan.”

He'd never be able to go back to the States now. His mission was officially compromised. He was raised to not have feelings, trained so that if ever faced with choosing love or his mission, he’d shoot love in the head. Now, he was… he was going against his entire life’s purpose.

The words made Yanan falter, a maelstrom of emotions flooding his eyes as the guards came down the hall.

“You sick fuck,” he sneered. He put his finger on the trigger and squeezed.

A shot rang through the hall. Changgu waited for the spike of pain as a bullet hit him, but it never came.

The guard coming up behind him fell to the ground in a heap. He opened his eyes to see Yanan lowering his gun, his conflicted stare trained on the body, shoulders slumped.

“Yanan…” Changgu was floored, honestly.

Yanan met his baffled gaze. “Can I believe you?”

Changgu had never been more inconveniently turned on. 

“Yes,” he nodded.

More guards turning onto the hallway reminded them of the situation. Without thinking, Changgu grabbed Yanan’s hand and began running, pushing through the doors and leading out of the building to the forest a few yards away. The soldiers stationed along the path must have already gone after Junhui.

Changgu’s breaths came out in harsh puffs as they pushed their way outside, the trees coming into view. Just a few more feet and they'd be home free.

Gunshots blasted out behind them, the guards’ last attempts to neutralise them before they got away. They ducked their heads and ran faster, Yanan’s long legs dragging Changgu the final stretch past the tree line.

A loud bang rang out through the hot, humid air, and searing pain bloomed across Changgu’s stomach within seconds, the sudden force of impact pushing him forward into a stumble. 

Yanan called out his name as his hand was wrenched away and he hit the ground hard, but something was wrong with it. It was muffled and distorted by the pain roaring through Changgu’s body, everything fading out into the distance. Black spots began filling his vision when the trees around them exploded, splinters flying everywhere.

An angel’s face filled his vision. Or wait… it might Yanan... Either way, Changgu wanted to smile. Even though the angel was yelling something at him, eyes filled with fear, and the was pain spiraling Changgu deeper into something that looked a vaguely like his mother’s arms, he wanted to smile. Maybe this was it, maybe he was finally dying. It was nice, he had to admit.

Changgu lifted his hand, barely noting the red blood running down his fingers, and touched the beautiful man’s face. If this was the last thing he saw before he died, he wouldn’t be too upset. Everything went black after that.

…………………

“.... he’ll take too long to recover, you know that right?” Feifei’s soft, concerned voice pulled Changgu awake. “Even with his super immune system and your medical skills being as good as your mother’s...”

“I don't care. I'll treat him on the way.” 

“Yanan….” Feifei sighed. Someone’s chair squeaked as they shuffled around. “Are you sure you can do that? Nazis are all over that region, you wouldn't make it five days, especially with Changgu in his condition.”

Yanan. Changgu had to see Yanan.

“It's better than freezing to death going through Russia,” Yanan reasoned.

Feifei fell silent, presumably giving Yanan that look she always gave Changgu whenever she didn't like that he was right.

Changgu groaned and turned his head to the side. “Yanan,” he tried to say, but only a weak whimper came out.

Yanan and Feifei stopped talking to rush over to him.

“Shhh… it's okay,” Yanan whispered, closer this time, and Changgu tried to open his eyes to see, to know he was okay, but he couldn't.

He whimpered again and shifted, forcing his body to cooperate, but it refused. Nothing was working.

“Changgu, honey, I’m going to give you something for the pain, okay? Hold still,” Feifei said gently. There was a sharp prick in his arm, and everything went black again.

\---

The jostle of a cart woke Changgu up the next time. People were talking indistinctly around him, blending in with the steady clop of horse hooves pulling them along.

He tried to open his eyes again, willing his body to listen to him and _fucking_ _work,_ but nothing. He shifted, pain shooting up his stomach, forcing a pitiful whine out of his throat -because apparently, that was all he could do anymore. Fucking whine and be paralysed.

Pathetic.

A warm hand touched his under the blanket covering him, thumb stroking the back of his own. 

Yanan. Changgu would know Yanan’s hand anywhere. His muscles relaxed into the touch.

The cart slowed to a stop, and a gruff voice asked, “Papers?”

There was some murmuring, then Changgu saw a light being shown on him through his eyelids.

“What happened to him?” The voice grunted. Changgu would give anything to punch the owner right now.

“What's it matter?” Yanan snarked.

The gruff voice huffed. “All clear, move along,” it said. The cart lurched into motion a second later. It went over a sharp bump in the road, and Changgu’s head thumped hard against the surface beneath him. He was out like a light.

\---

The next time he woke up was to the quiet crackle of a fire, and a warm, solid body snoring softly next to him.

He took a deep breath and begged -yes, begged- his body to let him open his eyes, because he needed to see where they were. He needed to know how long it had been.

Slowly, his heavy eyelids lifted. He saw a rocking chair first, standing empty and stagnant next to a fireplace. In the corner, a sign in another language was nailed to the wall beside an old wooden door. Was that… Arabic? Changgu only knew the basics of Arabic, but he was positive those were the characters.

He opened his mouth to wake Yanan up, really hoping it was Yanan behind him because that would be way too awkward for him right now if it wasn't, but all that came out was a feeble wheeze. 

He huffed in frustration and moved. 

_ Oh _ man, he regretted that. He regretted it immediately. 

The stitches in his abdomen tugged against each other, and with another shift, they tore. The pain was too much, and Changgu only had enough time to cry out before it overcame him, and he blacked out.

\---

He opened his eyes again who knew how long later. Cold metal was digging into his back and he subconsciously registered shouts of German outside the truck he was in, before noticing the two blond men above him. They were looking out the front window of the truck, wool uniforms wrapped tightly around themselves to protect from the cold, and that unmistakable cross on their arms. One was idly conversing with the man in the passenger seat of the truck cab, but the other was just staring, eyes unfocused and half his face covered in a black cloth.

The other man turned to look at him to say something in German. Changgu didn't have the brain power to bother translating it, it had taken too much energy to even close his eyes and pretend to still be unconscious. The man with half his face covered responded curtly.

Wait…. Was that Yanan?

No way.

No  _ fucking  _ way.

Changgu forced his eyes open again and looked up at the man. Now that he was looking closely, the cloth did a good job at masking almost all of Yanan’s features, stopping just under his eyes to make it look like he was squinting rather than showing their natural definition. The cap on his head distracted from the course strands, now bleached blonde to add to the false image, enough so that, to the common eye, he looked full bread white.

If Changgu wasn't paralysed right now, he'd give Yanan a congratulatory kiss for being so good at espionage.

His eyelids grew too heavy for him to keep open and they fell shut of their own volition. With a defeated sigh, Changgu let himself be swallowed into the void.

\---

“Mr. Yeo?”

Changgu grunted.

“Rosalyn, it sounds like he's waking up. Please go get Mr. Yan.”

The cold touch of a stethoscope against his chest made him hiss.

“Mr. Yeo, can you open your eyes?”

Changgu carefully lifted his eyelids in response. A woman with fair features and dirty blonde hair smiled down at him. Her red cap with a white cross in the middle made his head hurt. She had a slight accent when she spoke, but didn't  _ seem _ German….? Maybe…?

Where the heck was he?

And more importantly, where was Yanan?

“Where am I?” He asked, but more like croaked. It sounded like he’d swallowed thirty bullet magazines after months(?) of not speaking.

The nurse smiled comfortingly at him. “You are in a hospital in Bellinzona, Switzerland. We’ve been treating you for three weeks now,” she said as she checked his temperature.

Switzerland. Changgu remembered seeing a map of allied countries during a meeting with the Commissar. He'd pulled up a map of Switzerland to show separately, telling the other officials of its declared neutrality. If he was really here, he was safe. From both sides of the war.

“Where is my friend?” He asked around his dry throat.

“Changgu,” he heard Yanan sigh out as he walked up with another nurse right then. He took Changgu’s breath away, if Changgu was being honest.

His hair was still blond, falling on either side of his still perfect perfect face. He was wearing civilian clothes - a loose button shirt over dark pants; the first time Changgu had seen him in anything other than a uniform. 

“His vital signs are normal, and his concussion has fully healed. Rosalyn and I will leave you two to talk now,” the nurse next to Changgu said. She patted him lightly on the shoulder before stepping away and closing the curtain behind herself and the other nurse.

They didn't say anything, opting to just stare at each other and take it all in. A mix of emotions was swirling in Changgu’s chest, pushing for so many questions to be asked. How long had it been? Why Switzerland? What did Yanan have to do to get them both here?

“How are you feeling?” Yanan beat him to speaking first.

“Good. Better now that I can actually move,” he wiggled his arms around with a small smile to prove his point.

Yanan giggled and walked over to the table next to the bed. He pointed to the pitcher of water, silently asking if Changgu wanted any. 

Changgu nodded as he opened his mouth to ask, “how long has it been?”

Yanan handed him the water, lips pursed, before answering. “About four months….”

Four months?!?

What??!

“Have I missed anything important?” He asked -to keep the panic over not reporting to his aunt in London down more than anything.

“Oh yeah,” Yanan sat down on the edge of his bed and crossed his arms, leaning back casually. “Allies took Africa, Shanghai’s bombed to shit, and the Russian winter face fucked the Germans.”

Wow, four months of escaping communist China really added to Yanan’s vocabulary. Changgu found it kind of sexy, but also didn't care about the war much right now.

He looked down at the water cup in his hand, drumming the fingers of the other against his leg, and hesitantly asked, “what about Feifei, and Junhui and Minghao….”

Yanan’s eyes turned sad, almost - like he was sorry Changgu was worrying so much. He put a hand on Changgu’s and squeezed gently. “They're alright,” he appeased. “I got a letter from Feifei, she's being pulled out soon and taken back to the States. Junhui sent me a telegram when we were in Ankara; he and Minghao made it to England like you two apparently planned.”

“So you know everything now?” Changgu didn’t want to explicitly say,  _ about me being a spy _ . It was kind of a touchy subject, as one could assume.

Yanan nodded carefully, dark eyes studying him. “Feifei told me everything when I showed up with you bleeding out in my arms. Guess she figured I was trustworthy for saving you.”

Changgu let out a soft breath, his water cup now the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He could feel Yanan’s gaze on him.

“I’m not mad,” Yanan muttered after a few seconds, surprising Changgu into looking up. He held his eyes as he continued, “At first, I was pissed with you, mostly because I felt betrayed… but then I ran into another one of you from that project thing, just before leaving China. He told me about when you two were younger.” Yanan’s eyes wavered as they began to glisten, but he kept talking, “he said you were always the only one to find every flaw in every plan the Americans gave you. You always looked at the situation from a neutral standpoint, and never changed your mind. And… that's incredible, Changgu….” 

Changgu felt his eyes sting. He refused to let himself cry, he never cried. But Yanan was looking at him with so much love and admiration, and he really couldn't handle it. 

“He saved us too. I thought for sure he'd shoot me and take you back to the states himself, but he said you always hated being a spy anyway and wouldn't do that to you,” Yanan finished with a wet laugh. Changgu giggled and agreed because he couldn't deny it. He'd never wanted to be in the White Project, even since they picked him up from the orphanage with Hyojung. The only reason he hadn't run away the first chance he got was because Yuto had held him back…. 

_ “...We’re brothers now, Changgu-hyung…” _

“Was it Hyojungie-hyung? He has a kind heart…”

Yanan nodded, a soft grin on his lips as his eyes gleamed. He laced his fingers through Changgu’s and squeezed.

“Is Minghao okay?” Changgu asked after a few moments.

“Yeah…” Yanan bit his lip and stared at their linked hands for a second. “He’s coming back, that's all Junhui could say. Slowly, but surely…”

Changgu exhaled quietly and folded his thumb over Yanan’s. “You carried me all the way here?” He raised a playful eyebrow and looked up at Yanan through his lashes.

He could have sworn Yanan blushed, but the blond cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded. “Of course I did,” he squeezed his hand again, “I’d never leave you behind.”

Changgu grinned like a child. “Because you  _ love  _ me?” He teased.

Yanan laughed and leaned forward, stopping just centimeters from Changgu’s lips. “Yes,” he whispered, “what about you?” He asked that familiar question.

The one that got them into this mess in the first place.

“Yes,” Changgu said before he closed the distance between them to push their lips together. He let out a happy sigh when a hand came up to cup his cheek and the kiss deepened.

…..………..

Changgu really fucking hated keys. He didn't know what was with Europe and keys, but for some stupid reason an English king probably came up with rather than admit he had a small dick, they were necessary for life.

“Oh, Changgu, do you need any help?” The old woman, Elsa from across the hall, asked. She put her market bags down and hobbled over.

Changgu huffed out a laugh, “Thank you, Elsa,” he bowed to her and handed the keys over. “I don't know why I still can't figure out this darn door.”

Elsa waved her hand dismissively as the lock clicked open. “It’s alright, son. I'm happy to help,” she stepped to the side so Changgu could open the door and hoist his bags in. “Did you hear, though?” She asked just before he stepped passed the frame.

“Hear what?”

“The war’s over,” Elsa stage whispered excitedly. “Allies dropped the bombs this morning. Japan’s surrendered.”

Changgu felt his heartbeat quicken. It was over. Finally, truly, over. “That's amazing!” He exclaimed and gave Elsa a hug. “Is your son coming home?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Bjarne’s on a plane back as we speak. You and Yanan are coming over for dinner when he arrives, yes?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Of course, we wouldn't miss it for the world,” Changgu promised. 

“How's his English coming along? I’m sure he’s progressing, but we don’t want a repeat of Mrs. Braun’s Christmas party-”

“He’ll do fine, Ms. Elsa,” Changgu interrupted with a light laugh. “We’ve been practicing and doing more lessons, don't worry.” It wasn’t like they were starting from square one, Yanan had already known enough German to get them here, so he wasn’t a completely lost cause like Elsa let on.

The old woman hadn't once questioned his and Yanan’s relationship since the day they moved in, and he was grateful for it. Especially when she’d accidentally interrupted them very heavily making out on the roof instead of hanging up laundry like they were supposed to be, and had calmly commented on the weather later that day like nothing had happened.

Elsa giggled and sighed overdramatically in relief. Changgu gave her another hug before excusing himself into his flat.

It was a quaint little space, only one bedroom with an attached bathroom, and a small kitchen in the corner of a sitting room. Really, it was perfect, they didn't need much more.

“Changgu? That you?”

“Yep!”

Yanan stepped out of the bedroom, hair freshly washed and a towel around his neck. “Was that Elsa helping you get in?”

Changgu smiled and walked up to him. “Yep,” he said as he wrapped his arms around Yanan’s torso and leaned up to peck his lips. “We’re having dinner with her and her son Bjarne tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” Yanan leaned down to give him another kiss. “Do I have to speak English this time?”

“Absolutely.”

“Shit.”

Changgu chuckled and nuzzled at his cheek. “You’ll do fine, love,” he whispered. He wasn't actually sure if Yanan would be okay, but it would probably come true if he said it enough times, right? At least for the sake of Elsa’s freshly made cookies this time.

Yanan let out a soft whine and turned his head to nip at Changgu’s nose in annoyance. He kissed him again to soothe it over.

“Guess what,” Changgu mumbled against his lips to change the subject.

“What?”

“The war’s over.”

Yanan grunted dismissively as he leaned down for a deeper kiss. Changgu laughed and pulled away to look him in the eye. 

“And we’re officially allowed to travel,” he continued, only a little sarcastic, because they'd always been allowed to travel, they just weren’t able to enter their respective countries. Or not have to worry about getting shot.

“I'm thinking we should visit Washington DC,” Yanan mock-pondered.

“Well, I do have a few friends there,” Changgu shrugged, playing along.

Yanan wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “They still think you're dead?”

“If they do,” Changgu chuckled, “they have one hell of a surprise coming.”

Yanan laughed as well and kissed him again. “DC it is, then.”


End file.
